My Appointment

She sat there in the small examination room, across the table from me.  Pen in hand, writing notes and scribbling my answer to a series of endless questions.  Although she seemed interested and concerned - the clinical nature of her personality and the scientist dedicated to the study of my illness - was most apparent.

NO, suicide has never been a thought... This first question is always the same. (A marvelous ice breaker)

I am here today with little expectation, which is not normal for me.  I usually thoroughly prepare for my appointments; treating them like I have been granted an interview with the Pope.  All the pomp and circumstance to get to that burning question all MS patients have - "What can I expect next?"

This time I am less inclined to look for her to give me any concrete, definitive answers.  She simply does not know and clearly cannot offer anything other than a guess.  I actually saw her - the leading MS specialist at Stony Brook Hospital - shrug her shoulders.  Nice, if I was wondering about the weather.

Today, in that little room, I felt a stab of sorrow for this woman.  She may have medical funding for research, the backing of pharmaceutical companies and the admiration and respect of her colleagues BUT today she had nothing to offer me.  Nothing but future hopes and future studies.  Nothing in her Black Bag of tricks to give me.  

All I got today was that pitiful shrug.